You And Me
by understarryskies
Summary: Sam asks Dean a question that the older Winchester can't quite answer honestly. General.  circa Season 2


They were driving through the Indiana night when Sam turned to Dean and calmly asked him the question. For a moment the older Winchester just stared back, trying to read his brother's expression in the soft light from the Impala's dash. Sam's face was blank, serious as usual but blank.

"Huh?"

"What do you think you're going to do once all this is over?" Sam repeated, gesturing vaguely to their surroundings.

"When what is over?"

"Hunting. What are you going to do when we stop hunting." Dean fell silent, staring at the road ahead under the guise of thinking of an answer. Slowly he churned the question over in his head, wondering how he could explain the harsh reality to his brother. Sometimes he thought Sam understood what the family business meant but there were times like this when he was the innocent kid that Dean remembered cooking dinners for when Dad wasn't around.

"Sam-" He broke off for a second, picking his words carefully, instinctively trying to protect his brother. "This is it for me. There's no way out of this. I've been a hunter too long." Sam was quiet for a long moment, staring at his brother.

"Is that you speaking, or Dad?" His voice was soft but it seemed loud. Dean turned away from him, staring pointedly at the road and gripping the steering wheel, knuckles whites. He didn't give a reply, didn't dare speak unless he said something that he regretted. Instead he focused on the Impala, blotting out the presence in the passenger seat. It wasn't the first time he had lost himself in the car, tuning out the pains of the life he led.

There were few things in the world Dean loved more than the Impala. When his father had given him the keys, old and stained but a perfect fit in his calloused hand, his heart had shuddered for a moment. There wasn't a specific definable feature about his baby that he loved but often it was her flaws that warmed his heart. It was the wheezing , rattling growl of her voice that properly woke him in the morning. It was the worn leather of the seats and the tiresome creak of the doors that made her beautiful.

Sam would laugh and say 'it's just a car,' but to Dean she was more than that. She wasn't a car, she wasn't even a friend. She had become part of the small, dysfunctional family that he called his own. In some ways she was the faithful pet, the constant companion, who had carried two generations for years and years. Not once had she complained or failed to carry them to their destination. In some ways she was the ancient matriarch who had seen more than they would ever see. Her wisdom was locked away in the cogs and gears of her metal heart that kept eating the road set out for her.

Dean rubbed his thumb along a groove in the steering wheel as he realised that he hadn't lied in his answer to Sam's question but he hadn't entirely told the truth.

This was simply where he belonged; sitting behind the wheel, ACDC blaring from the speakers. As long as he had the road in front of him he was happy to drive until exhaustion forced him to pull into the next cheap, dodgy-looking hotel he could spot. Jugs of coffee from diner ladies with pursed lips and plates piled high with grease in the morning. A couple of shots and a few skilfully strung together words to the hottest chick in the bar for the evenings.

No matter how far Dean sunk into the Impala's leather seat and tried to blend his mind with the memories they both shared, he couldn't stop Sam from walking in. His brother was always there, always riding shotgun and protecting his back. Dean could see him sitting across from him at the diner, his sasquatch legs too long to fit comfortably under the table. He sat in the background at the bar, a bored look permanently seated on his face and still he never left.

"I know man." Sam's voice was hoarse and once more Dean found himself trying to pick out emotion on his brother's features. All he found was a world-weariness that he knew was reflected in his own eyes. "You're right, this is it." He snorted. "You and me against the world. Just hunting demons and living in a car."

"Aw, it could be worse Sammy," Dean chided him, slapping a hand on his thigh. "I know it's not the Batmoblie but at least she's hot." A little smile tugged at the corners of Sam's mouth and he let it stretch his lips as he turned to his brother.

"Yeah." The silence that settled over them was broken only by the comforting growl of the Impala as she pushed on into the night.


End file.
